Where Did We Go Wrong?
by Anneliza
Summary: Arthur decides that he no longer wants to be with his French lover and breaks up with him. Heartbroken, Francis spirals into depression and changes in many ways, hoping that the Englishman will notice and come back.
1. Chapter 1

Down a shabby side road in the heart of Paris sat an old, worn bar that was often visited only by the handful of locals who knew of its existence. The few people who knew of this small establishment were regular customers, preferring this particular pub over any other they've attended in the past. All of the frequenters knew each other well and immediately knew something was wrong when a familiar blond head stumbled through the door, up to the counter and faltered midway through ordering his usual glass of pinot noir. The man stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "Just water please". Immediately everyone in the room went silent and turned to him in shock. The bartender dropped the wine glass he had picked up upon spotting the man, the cup shattering on impact, and put a concerned hand on the man's shoulder.

"Mon ami, what happened? Dites-moi."

The man's hair hung in his face, hiding it from sight as he replied, "It is over. He threw me out. And I do not even know why." He burst into tears and let his head fall down to the counter, sobbing into his arms.

Everyone in the bar knew who he was talking about and stared. They all knew about the man's relationship and couldn't believe it was over. The two had been perfect for each other but apparently something had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Several years later found the same man tucked away in a corner booth with his best friend, nursing a glass of water. The two were hidden from the world and while the pair had been known to have several men and women surrounding them, trying to win their favor, no one had been seen since that night years ago.

"Come on, amigo," the one with curly brown hair said, trying to cheer him up. "It has been four years since Arturo did that awful thing to you. You need to get over him."

The blond man shook his head, eyes red and filled with tears. "No. I can never get over him. I gave him my heart and for nearly eleven years he treasured it, treated it as delicately as if it was made of the finest china, then smashed it to dust for a reason he would not tell me and kept the pieces for himself. He did not even give me a single shard back. I originally gave it to him but then he stole it." Taking a sip of his water, the man stared at the rough wood of the table; it was littered with pockmarks and rings left from glasses but he couldn't tear his eyes away from it while his mind was filled with thoughts of his beloved who didn't love him anymore.

"Amigo, we have been here for hours. Agua is not going to help your heartache just like it hasn't for the last four years." A dark bottle of Francis' favorite wine was slid toward him. "Just this once, por favor? It will help."

The dusty old bottle was pushed back across the table with a shake of the head.

"No. I cannot. He said that my drinking drove him away. If I keep it away maybe he will come back…?" The red eyes had a small spark of hope in them for just a moment before fading away again. "What am I thinking? He does not care. He does not know. He probably thinks that I am an alcoholic now and laughs about it."

More tears ran down his face and his friend decided that it was time to leave.

"Come now, amigo. It is late." Helping the other to his feet, he led him out of the bar. "I will take you home."

* * *

AN: Chapter 2! Yay!

So! Four years has passed since the last chapter and Francis is miserable. He's lonely and still heartbroken and four years sober. That's a long time for him! But he thinks that it will make Arthur come back because he loves him so much.

This story is going to be composed of short chapters, much like 'My Family', to keep up suspense but I'm going to try and post more often to make up for it. (NO PROMISES!)

See ya next time!


	3. Chapter 3

A loud knocking suddenly rang through the large Tudor house, not stopping for a moment.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" a very irritable man yelled as he stomped to the door. He checked his watch as he went and swore at the time, tightening the robe he wore over his boxers, and ready to murder whoever was creating the ruckus. "What?!" he demanded, yanking the old door open roughly and glaring menacingly at whoever was on his doorstep. "It's two in the morning!"

"A-Ah…A-Arthur…" the man said nervously, fidgeting back and forth on the porch. "I can see that you are not a morning person, h-huh?" He tried to laugh but the younger man's face did not change. Taking a deep breath, the man calmed himself down with difficulty. "I need to talk to you. It's important. Can I come in?"

Glaring for a moment longer, the owner of the home sighed before moving out of the way.

"Fine. But this better be quick." Nodding to something, he growled, "That thing may look like a decoration but it's fully loaded so don't tempt me." Turning his head, the older man spotted an antique gun on the wall, easily within reach of the short blond man.

Starting to get nervous again, the visitor remembered why he was here and swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping determinedly into the house.

* * *

AN: So we have a midnight visitor to Arthur...who could it be? And what do they want?

Find out next time, hopefully coming soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Later that same day, Francis was sitting on his dirty, stained couch writing on a small piece of paper with a glass within easy reach of his fingers, when his doorbell rang; the sound old and distressed from a few years of disrepair.

Heaving himself up, he quickly slipped the paper behind some books before he dragged himself over to the door, feet slipping a little from both the motion on the wood floor and the man's tired mind.

"H-Hello?" he asked as he pulled the door open. Seeing the person on his front step made his eyes widen and his mind reel, there was no way his eyes were telling the truth. "A-Arthur…? Is that really you?" Reaching forward slowly, scared to make the apparition disappear, he gently touched the other's arm. "What are you doing here?"

The younger man simply stared at the other, mouth open slightly. There was no way that the man in front of him was really Francis; simply no way. Francis was cheerful, flirty, always the best dressed and manicured person in the room but the person in front of him was not the same at all. He would have said, 'Excuse me I seem to have the wrong house' except for the fact that he _knew_ he was in the right place; he had spent too many wonderful days and nights in this beautiful home with its sprawling lawns and gardens to ever forget it. "F-Francis…?" he asked nervously, trying to make sure it was him. The older man nodded slowly, still shocked that the man was in his country, let alone here.

Arthur continued to stare. He knew that Antonio had said that Francis was in rough shape but he had never assumed it was this bad. The man's hair was greasy and full of knots and tangles, along with dozens of split ends, his beard was wildly overgrown, reaching far past his shoulders and there were large, dark circles under his eyes. Even his clothes weren't spared. They were stained, torn, and definitely out of style.

This wasn't Francis. Not the Francis he knew.

The Francis he knew would never be caught dead looking like this. Even when he knew that he was going to be at home all day, not seeing anyone, he would far better than Arthur did on any normal day.

"Francis…what…what has happened to you?"

Honestly, he was almost scared to hear the answer.

"I was heartbroken."

Arthur took a step back in shock.

"B-But…b-but that was four years ago…did you not move on?"

The older man shook his head.

"No. I was in love. It is not easy to move on from something like that." As the other was fidgeting on his step, Francis asked again, "Why are you here, Arthur?"

"O-Oh…w-well…Antonio came to see me this morning and told me that you were not doing well. He wanted me to come talk to you."

"Then do you want to come in?"

He pushed the door open and stepped to the side.

The Englishman nodded.

"Yes please."

The two entered the house and again Arthur was amazed by all the changes. The furniture wasn't immaculate, far from it actually with several stains and springs popping out of cushions. The walls were all stained and some of the wallpaper was torn or missing pieces. Everything was covered in dust. Surely things weren't this bad for the older man, right?

He followed the man to the living room and sat on a chair across from him while the other took the couch and grabbed his small glass he had left there.

"Still drinking, I see?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you look so bad?"

He regretted his choice of words as soon as he saw the older's face fall.

"No. I am not." He held the glass out for the other to smell. "It is just grape juice. I have not had any alcohol in years. This juice is the closest I have gotten."

Taking a sniff proved the drink to be just as he said; just simple juice.

"You haven't been drinking? But I thought you and Antonio went to the bar every week."

Francis shook his head.

"No. I only go if he drags me there to get me out of the house and I only drink water when we are there."

"When was the last time you had any alcohol?"

"The day you threw me out."

Arthur's eyes widened.

"So your collection has just been sitting in your basement untouched?"

"No. I removed it. I did not want to be tempted to drink any of it."

Arthur's jaw dropped.

"What?! All of your rare and expensive wines are gone?! You sold them?!"

"I did not sell them all." The younger man sighed in relief. "I gave some of it away for free to get rid of it as soon as possible."

The man gaped at him.

"You…what…you…you…"

He couldn't find the words he wanted and just opened and closed his mouth for a few more moments.

"Arthur, will you answer a question I have had for a while now?"

Giving a quick shake of his head to get back to himself, Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

Francis took a deep breath and looked down at the dirty carpet under his mismatched socks.

"You told me that the reason you threw me out was because I smoked too much, drank too much, and was too flirty but I do not believe those to be the real reasons. I threw my last pack of cigarettes in your trash before I walked to the train station in the rain with no shoes or umbrella. As much as I have wanted to light up to calm my nerves, I have refrained. I have not touched a bottle of any alcohol since that same night when I dragged myself to my favorite bar, deciding to get water instead. It has been difficult and I have been nearly desperate for a mere sip but none has been near me. I was never unfaithful to you. You know my job is make sure that people feel good about themselves and brighten their day; I only ever tossed a compliment or two at them and nothing more. Since you left me, I have done nothing remotely sexual, whether by myself or with another. And not only that, but you said that you hated my national language and my accent, so I stopped using it completely. Only English comes out of my mouth and my accent is gone altogether. If I was to visit your country or Alfred's I would fit in without question." He sighed sadly and looked up to lock eyes with the man he still loved dearly. "I have changed so much for you, even though I did not believe those to be the real reasons, and you still ignore me, push me away, and go off with your new love. You said you would answer my question and I desperately want to know the truth so please do not hold back this time. Arthur please, why did you break up with me? Honestly."

Arthur let out a breath in a hiss and looked away guiltily.

"I cannot." He didn't look at the other as he heard a choked sob come from the other, standing up instead. "Not now. I have to go figure something out. When I have everything sorted, I will be back, I promise."

He headed for the door, grabbed the knob, and paused.

A sheet of paper that had obviously been hidden in a hurry was sitting on a bookshelf. Though he couldn't see all of the words, he knew what the message meant.

"Francis…" he started slowly, turning around with the paper in his hand. "What is this?"

* * *

AN: Okay so the REAL reason I was keeping the chapters short was because of the timeskips in the first few chapters. And to lead up to this. This really long chapter is also the reason it took so long to be posted. I wanted to make sure that Francis' speech was absolutely perfect.

But yes, Francis is so different. No smoking, no drinking, no flirting, no French. None of that for four years. And he doesn't even care about his appearance anymore! He's so heartbroken and Arthur won't even tell him the ONE thing he wants to know.

Maybe he will next time.

Oh and why was Francis hiding a piece of paper? Why was it so important that Arthur not see it?


	5. Chapter 5

Looking up, Francis' eyes widened and he jumped up, grabbing for the paper in the man's hand.

"N-Nothing! J-Just leave it alone!"

"It's not nothing!" He shoved the note in the older man's face. "A suicide note is not nothing! A suicide note is a very big something!"

Francis was still trying to get the note out of his hands.

"Just give it back! It is mine and you are tampering with it!"

Arthur held it far away from the other.

"No! I will not let you do something like this!"

"You did not seem to mind four years ago! I have waited for four years for you to even acknowledge me again and you have not! You threw me away! Why does one little note suddenly spark your interest?! You should not care! You proved how much you cared that night and nothing has changed since so why are you trying to stop me?!"

"Because I still love you!" Arthur screamed back.

Silence.

Francis stared at him, trying to keep his hope from getting the better of him.

"You are a liar. If you had loved me you would have trusted me. If you had loved me you would have given me the decency to tell me what I did wrong. If you had loved me," And here he paused for a moment. "You never would have smashed my heart to dust and left me in the rain." He looked away. "You need to leave, Arthur. I do not want you here anymore."

"I will leave. But only on one condition." The Frenchman turned a little to show he was listening. "You are not allowed to kill yourself. I have things to take care of but I will be back in one week. While I am gone you should try and clean yourself up. I swear to you that I will return when I say. We have more things we need to talk about."

Francis nodded. "Alright. Fine." He walked the other man to the door. "I will see you in one week."

The Englishman nodded and left.

* * *

AN: So yes, it was a suicide note but no he's not going to act on it. Not since Arthur asked him not to. But what does Arthur have to do that is so urgent?


	6. Chapter 6

A week passed and Francis waited for Arthur's return nervously, half expecting him not to show up. He had wondered all week if his conversation with the man had actually been a dream and he was just so deluded that he believed it. Nevertheless he had showered, trimmed up his beard, and put on some of his finest clothes. He had also tried to straighten up his house to the best of his ability all week and it looked almost presentable now.

He got up and checked himself in the mirror for the thousandth time that hour, pausing for a moment since he was still not used to his appearance, and made sure that his tie was straight. 'You're stalling,' his mind told him. 'You're betting on a dream. You have the same chance of him turning up tonight as you do of winning the lottery.' Looking at his reflection he could see the uncertainly clearly in his eyes, swirling and making him slightly dizzy. 'You are just so desperate to win him back that you imagined him coming over, talking to you, and saying that he still loves you.'

"Arthur will come," he told himself. "He promised. I trust him. I know that he was real. I touched him."

'Dreams can be very convincing.'

"That was not a dream!"

'Look at the time.' He did so and saw that it was nearly seven. 'If he was going to come he would have been here by now.'

"The train is late," he reasoned.

'You know that's not true.'

"He's stuck in traffic."

'It's clear as day outside.'

"He's trying to match his shoes to his jacket for once!" he cried out, trying to think of any excuse.

'You know he doesn't care that much. Especially if he's only visiting you.'

Francis put his head in his hands, pulling on his hair.

"He will come. He will! He promised…" He felt tears in his eyes. "He promised…"

'You know very well that he is a liar. Why would you trust him again after everything he did to you?'

"Because I love him…"

'You are a fool.'

"I know…"

His back hit the wall and he slid down it to sit on the floor, putting his head in his knees.

He sat there in silence for a long time, the voice in his head being kind enough to leave him alone, just thinking and waiting.

Just as he was about to give up and go to bed, not without finding himself some cheap alcohol to get drunk off of first since there was no reason left to wait for the man to come back, there was a quiet knock on his door.

His head shot up and banged against the wall behind him making stars pop in front of his eyes but he fumbled to stand up anyway; he had to make sure that he hadn't imagined the sound.

Making his way quickly to the door, he pulled it open.

On the step in front of him was Arthur dressed in crisp dress pants and wearing the shirt Francis had bought him shortly before their fight and in his hands was a large bouquet of roses. He looked up and gave the other a small smile which warmed Francis' heart almost more than he could bear.

"Good evening, Francis. I'm sorry I'm late. My previous errand went long. I hope I didn't keep you waiting…?"

Francis shook his head quickly.

"No! Of course not!" He moved out of the way. "Would…would you like to come in?" he asked hopefully.

The other nodded.

"Yes please." He stepped inside and Francis closed the door behind him before leading him over to the living room. Arthur was shocked by all the changes that had been made in such a short time; the house was clean and Francis almost looked like his old self again. They reached the living room and sat down on the couch, sitting in silence for a long time. He looked down and saw the roses in his lap. "Oh!" he said suddenly. "These are for you." He blushed slightly and held them out.

Francis smiled slightly and took them from him.

"Thank you. They are lovely." He got up and got a vase, filling it with water and returning quickly. Once he was back in the living room, he put the vase on the table in front of them.

"So…" the Englishman started slowly, fiddling with his hands. "I came here tonight to talk to you." Francis nodded to show he was listening. "I owe you an explanation. I told you lies four years ago because I was hurt and have regretted a million times since. I told you I hated your smoking. That was a lie. I never minded your smoking. You did it so rarely and only when you were stressed. I could come home, see you with a cigarette in your hand and know something was wrong. I would come over, brush your hair, and ask you what was on your mind. You would tell me and we would work it out."

"I told you I hated your drinking. That was a lie. You never hurt anyone the few times you were drunk. You were always so careful to avoid getting drunk and would only have a glass or two. We used to drink together at dinner on nights where we would just spend time together, love each other. I saw no problem with your drinking and doctors say red wine is good for you anyway."

"I told you I hated your flirting. That was a lie. I know you only flirt with other people to brighten their day and make them feel loved and appreciated. I should have known you would never do anything to hurt me. Not you. You live to make people happy, nothing else. I don't know how many times I have seen you throw a harmless compliment or two at someone and seeing their entire day light up. I still remember the time I saw you talking to that girl, holding her hand so tightly. I had thought that there was something going on between you two and I confronted you about it later. Of course you denied it but I was too much of a fool to listen. That same girl came up to me later, coming to find you, and I tried to turn her away but she told me what you did. You saved her life. She felt lost to the world and was planning on ending her life but you talked her out of it. Told her how beautiful she was and how smart she was." Arthur looked away. "She still writes to you all the time, sends you a Christmas card every year without fail. I haven't opened any of the letters. They're still waiting for you."

He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Francis' eyes.

"Francis, I know I have hurt you far worse than anything else. And I know that I do it over and over. I still remember Joan and visit her grave every year. I wait until you leave before paying my own respects. I know you wonder who always lays the lilies on her grave. I confess that to be me. I know that I am stubborn, quick to anger, and don't always act like the best lover but you always stayed. You always would let me win arguments even when I was fighting for something completely ridiculous. You always made me a hot cup of tea after my temper had flared, whether it was directed at you or not, and just held me as I cried and far after my tears had dried. I know I have a hard time remembering anniversaries or being very romantic but you always forgave me and made me feel like the most special person in the world, even on your own birthday. I have never understood why you stayed at my side for all those years but I was extremely grateful for it and always felt blessed to have you as my own. I took you for granted. I realize that now. I wish I hadn't been such a fool four years ago and let another take me away."

He put his hands on his chest, over his heart. "I was so hurt that I didn't even realize just how badly I had hurt you. I wasn't happy with him, not like I had been with you, it was nothing like being with you, but I tried to convince myself that this was what I wanted. You had hurt me so I should be happy and shouldn't care about you anymore but I couldn't stop caring."

He moved his hands to hold Francis' instead. "I never stopped caring. I still love you so much Francis Bonnefoy and I know that this is incredibly selfish of me but I want you back. I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss waking up with a kiss and even though I was grouchy and didn't want to get up yet just being there with you made it worthwhile. I miss making dinner together, you staying close by to make sure that the food was actually edible. I miss dancing in the middle of the day for no reason other than a good song was on the radio and 'It would be a shame to waste it' as you would say. I miss quick, shared kisses when no one was looking and the quiet giggling afterward whether we were successful or not. I miss our picnics in the summer, our long walks in the fall, our snowball fights in winter, and our days in the spring where we would just sit and look at the blooming flowers. I miss hearing sweet French words at random times during the day and falling asleep in your arms just as you whisper 'Je t'aime toujours, mon petit lapin' in my ear."

He took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that I love you, Francis. I love you so much. I want you back and I broke up with him to try and make that possible. You don't have to take me back. I know I don't deserve it after making you so miserable that you almost killed yourself. I know that I deserve to suffer for the next century for throwing you away and I understand if you don't want me back but I just want you to know how much I love you."

Francis was lost for words.

He had no idea how to respond to everything Arthur had said yet he soon found himself acting without his own consent. He moved closer and looked deep into the other's eyes.

"Arthur," he began, speaking quietly. "Everything you have just said has echoed in my mind a thousand times since you left me. I have missed you so much and my feelings for you never changed. I have been so head over heels in love with you and that can never change. Even you running off with that stupid boy and leaving me behind didn't change my feelings for you. I love you so much and nothing would make me happier than to have you back in my arms."

Tears began to flow slowly down both their cheeks as they leaned forward to share a heartfelt kiss that had been four years overdue.

* * *

AN: *crying*

Anyway! France and England are back together! England apologized and France took him back! Not gonna lie, I'm really proud of that speech... I wasn't planning for there to be a speech like that in the story but it made sense for him to act like that rather than just go, 'Oh Francis! I'm so sorry! Please take me back!' 'Of course, Arthur! I love you!' 'I love you too, Francis!' *kiss kiss*

But yeah. Only one chapter left~


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